


Let's Tesselate

by captainkoirk



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anchors, Barebacking, Bottom Isaac, Chris Argent: Hot Dad Supreme, Cunnilingus, Don't Do Your Homework Just Eat Pringles, Emotional Grounding, Established Relationship, F/M, Isaac Lahey is an Egon Schiele sketch, M/M, Multi, No real plot here, POV Allison, Polyamory, Scott McCall: Alpha in the sheets and also sometimes in the streets, Sharing Clothes, Team Brawn, but think about archery calluses, just porn and a whole lotta feelings, think about them for like ten whole minutes, why do people even still live in beacon hills like 15 people get killed a week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-07
Updated: 2013-08-20
Packaged: 2017-12-22 17:52:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/916256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainkoirk/pseuds/captainkoirk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, Allison feels like puzzle pieces jammed into place to make a whole. She's together, but she still doesn't make a picture. Maybe it's not sometimes. Maybe it's a default, simply ignored because there's too much else going on.</p><p>Often, it starts with a nightmare. The sudden movement in whoever's bed they're sharing will wake Allison up, and the blankets will be pooled at their feet, the sheets twisted and damp. There's gold in the darkness and teeth in the moonlight, and when Allison reaches out blindly, Isaac's grip is crushing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It would seem obvious that things could never really be okay, but it isn't. Allison thinks she must will herself to forget, sometimes. She gets dressed in the morning and goes to school and finds ways to ignore the parts of her that are missing, because filling in the gaps requires degrees of acknowledgement she's not yet comfortable with yet. Parts like sleeping with the assurance of waking up. The sound of her mother's voice; kind, but not nice. Her father simply being her dad, not her ally.

 

Sometimes, Allison feels like puzzle pieces jammed into place to make a whole. She's together, but she still doesn't make a picture. Maybe it's not sometimes. Maybe it's a default, simply ignored because there's too much else going on.

 

Allison values the strength of her relationships. She doesn't need rescuing, that's not even worth mentioning, but she's learning to ask for help. There's her dad, of course. Lydia's got her own issues, but she makes time for Allison. They tend to stray from emotionally complex topics pretty fast, but they _know,_ and Allison thinks that's what matters.

 

Allison is learning to like herself. She'd never really thought about it before, she'd been raised to like herself. It's only recently she's felt like she owes it to herself to question herself. It's hard to come to terms with some of the things she's done, and that some people have done to her, but mixed-up puzzle or no, Allison is- _alright_ isn't the word, but she can stay together, for the most part. Which is something.

 

She needs her space. She needs time with her dad that is actual _father-daughter time,_ not the interactions of two allied hunters. She needs time with Lydia. She needs time with Isaac and Scott; infinitely preferably both over either.

 

It's not that Allison prefers them as a unit than as individuals, it's just that they work better when it's all three of them.

 

Scott and her have old impasses and arguments. They've been in love for a long time, but that doesn't mean their dynamic was meant to work when it was just the two of them. Every break, each attempted break-up; they didn't take, but they weren't baseless. Things are different with Isaac. It's in Scott's nature to be anxious about people he cares about, and Allison can see why, but when it applies to her, it feels a little suffocating. Scott wants to look after everything, and Allison wants to take care of herself for reasons beyond her upbringing. Maybe it's because her an Isaac have a history of assorted physical altercations with Allison coming out on top, sometimes very literally, but Isaac is never concerned about Allison being in danger she can't handle. He falls easily into the role of a supporter, where Scott has to struggle not to be a saviour.

 

For all that Isaac understands the dark, angry parts of Allison- the parts she's not sure she likes all the time, but are intrinsic to her and proving themselves eternally useful- she can't ground him like Scott can. She won't fight and she won't run, when Isaac has his bad days, but she feels powerless to do anything but _stay,_ and hope that it helps, that it proves something.

 

Allison has been preened as a leader. She's not sure how many of her tendencies are her personality, and how many of them are consequences, good and bad, of her upbringing, but Scott has this _way._ Melissa didn't raise him to be a leader, but she raised him to consider others, and that's power isn't it? It's not a thing, it's a _relationship._

 

Allison takes pride in learning to handle herself when she fights. She's having to relearn so much, but her foundations weren't shaky. She'd been thrown into the deep end, with Kate and Gerard and her mother's death, but she wasn't alone, isn't alone. She had herself, from the very start, even when she couldn't talk to her dad, or Lydia, or Scott.

 

Isaac is volatile, Allison knows. She's felt what it's like to be hurt by someone who's supposed to care, but at best, her grandfather was still a disconnect figure from her life, and his manipulation couldn't hurt like that of a parent. Allison struggles to reconcile with who her mother was, but she cannot begin to think about how Isaac copes. She has her father and the knowledge that, at the end of the day, her mother cared about her. The pack Isaac had found security in, for what Allison believes may have been the first time, is gone. She doesn't know very much about the late Mr. Lahey, but she knows that Isaac's anger ran deep enough to anchor him, in the very beginning of his nocturnal life.

 

Scott wasn't offered the bite, but the violation doesn't manifest itself as anger. Isaac is different. He and Allison both accepted the offer of power because they needed it, but Allison knows they came from very different places.

 

Tenderness is something Allison is relearning about herself, something she often needs to remind herself isn't synonymous with weakness. Allison knows that she can be cruel, often more easily than she is kind, but her history with Isaac could stand to be remedied with some compassion.

 

When Isaac has bad days, Allison can stay, and she can be kind. She finds that is something she needed, and still needs, and she wants Isaac to know that she isn't going anywhere. Things are not stable, especially for Isaac. Allison wonders what it would be like to lose your chosen family. Not the one you were born into, but the one you _chose,_ and how deep the bond would run, in the cycles of the moon and ritual. Allison tries to imagine, but she can't.

 

What she can do is try and show Isaac that her and Scott aren't leaving, being as tender as she dares. She can help hold Isaac up when Scott talks him down to earth.

 

Allison has bad days, herself. They manifest themselves as more depressive, than anything else. Allison feels bodies pile up around her, feels powerless, feels like she's not _getting anywhere_ , and it's all too much. Her dad, her rock, has always been the one member of her family that would indulge her at times like these, instead of encouraging her to shake it off. He'll hold her until she falls asleep, carry her from the sofa to her bed and tuck her in. They won't talk about it the next day, but he'll hug her tight before she leaves for school, kissing the crown of her head.

 

Allison knows what it feels like to be powerless, which is probably why Isaac trusts her to take care of herself. Isaac's anger is still there, but Scott _anchors_ him. He can do it just with command in his voice or a firm hand on Isaac's shoulder, and Allison feels the energy exchange, werewolf or no.

 

It's not something they discuss, despite Scott's usual inclination for verbal communication, because Scott isn't sure of his new supposed role as more than just a leader. But it's there, and it seems to work. Allison never thought she would be the kind hands to Scott's unflinching gold ( _red)_ stare, but Allison never expected a lot of things.

 

Often, it starts with a nightmare. The sudden movement in whoever's bed they're sharing will wake Allison up, and the blankets will be pooled at their feet, the sheets twisted and damp. There's gold in the darkness and teeth in the moonlight, and when Allison reaches out blindly, Isaac's grip is crushing.

 

"Is the _window open-_ " Isaac gasps, clammy hands and luminescent eyes, and Allison is letting out a stream of reassurances before her brain even kicks in, before she even registers the pain in her hand.

 

Scott moves from sleep to fully functioning in one fluid movement, strong palms on either side of Isaac's face.

 

" _Isaac._ " Is all he says, low and steady, and there's not a hint of sleep in his voice.

 

Isaac writhes, and the glow in eyes flickers out. His grip on Allison's hand is loose, now, and his hammering pulse is slowing down.

 

Scott is kneeling over him, but he's not hovering like he usually does. He's rooted, staring with certainty.

 

When Isaac tilts up to kiss him, open mouthed and hungry and distracting, Scott doesn't melt into him. He kisses back only once, closed mouth and set jaw.

 

"The window's closed." Scott's voice is even as he pulls the covers back up.

 

Isaac looks more relieved than disappointed, and he closes his eyes when Scott rests with an open hand over Isaac's heart. Isaac runs his thumb over the back of Allison's hand in silent apology, and she moulds her body against his, stroking his hair and kissing his temple.

 

When they wake up, sunlight stretching through the closed window, it's a good day. Isaac stops Allison from getting out of bed with long arms wrapped around her waist and kisses on her back, and it's light and easy when she obliges, laughing against the column of his neck.

 

Scott is all lazy smiles and sloppy kisses, flinging an arm over Isaac's shoulder and pulling the three of them into the mattress. Nuzzling under Isaac's chin, caressing Allison's hip, and failing to hide his grin. Isaac arches his back when Scott runs a hand up his spine, nudging Allison's mouth open with his tongue (human teeth, blue eyes, Allison notes).

 

When things are like this, it's easy to ignore missing pieces and impending sunsets. They don't talk about the night before.


	2. Chapter 2

Scott has this thing where he makes Allison go all _gooey._

 

She used to hate it more than anything because it made her feel weak. Scott McCall, her worst blind spot and her biggest liability. Things are different now, with the three of them watching each others' backs, and Allison is learning how powerful she can be when she is tender, how it is just as important as being firm.

 

Sometimes, Isaac's hands will shake, and she'll hold them. It's never the right time or place, but it will keep until Scott can put his hands on Isaac's shoulders, fingers curling in the fabric, and it keeps after, when Isaac lets out a shaky breath and squeezes Allison's hand.

 

Sometimes, Allison goes for runs. Sometimes, Scott and Isaac join in, loping through the woods with wild grins, play fighting and showing off and buzzing with sexually-charged energy.

 

Allison is not embarrassed by her pace. She is only human, and she's learning that it's enough just to challenge herself, not anyone else. She runs until she can't hear the blood pounding in her ears anymore, and the burning in her lungs and aching in her thighs belong to someone else. It's just the sound of her footfalls in the dry leaves and loose soil, the cold wind whipping around her face, and the dark flashes of Scott and Isaac behind the trees, weaving back and forth to stay near her.

 

The tall, scraggly pines rise up all around her, knobby roots pacing her steps, and Scott's infectious laughter echoes somewhere nearby, Isaac's quieter one at her heels.

 

Allison swerves to the side, sprinting up a windy trail, sunlight breaking through the the tree canopy. She's laughing, too, for all she's short of breath. The forest is quiet around her, and she imagines what Scott and Isaac can hear, can smell, can see.

 

She sees the clearing before she sees Isaac, stepping out of thin air, as unmoving and tall as a brick wall. She skids to a stop, right behind him, and he whirls around, stumbling away from her.

 

His claws and teeth are out, fingers flexing and chest heaving. Allison stands still, willing her hands not to curl into fists. Isaac can hear her heart hammering, she's sure of it, and his bright eyes are on her, but he's looking right past her.

 

His cheeks are red with exertion and his hair is matted to his forehead with sweat, but he shivers, a cruel thing ripping through his body, and Allison waits.

 

Beyond the trees, Allison can make out a wrought iron gate, and the headstones peeking out from behind it. This is where her aunt and her mother are buried, and she's feeling those gaps inside of herself, just now.

 

Scott walks past her, a hand briefly caressing the small of her back. His tread is heavy and even, and Isaac's breathing is slowing down, matching his pace. Scott lifts his arm from down by his side, keeping it low as he reaches out and curling a hand over Isaac's hip.

 

Isaac shifts, then; claws and extended canines slowly pulling back into his flesh, and when he winces, blinks once, his eyes are back to normal.

 

Not normal. They're human, but they still look haunted. This is when Allison moves,  toeing her way forward, bit by bit, until she can _touch,_ slowly raising her palms and holding Isaac's face in her hands, feeling his jaw unclench at her touch.

 

She doesn't say it's okay, because nothing is okay, but she's the first to turn on her heel and walk away from the graveyard, at least looking like she could put it behind her. She is a leader, after all.

 

They don't run on the way back, even if Isaac looks like he wants to bolt. He matches footfalls with Scott, leaning into Scott's firm hand on the small of his back. Allison walks just a step ahead, fingers loosely hooked with Isaac's.

 

They trudge up the front steps of the McCall residence, and Scott doesn't fumble with any haste for his keys. Melissa's out for the day, and the house is quiet as the three of them file into the kitchen.

 

Isaac hesitantly leans against the counter, long lines of his body rigid, while Scott fetches a glass from the cabinet, running the tap water cold.

 

When Isaac takes it, he drops it, and his eyes don't go wild. He jumps back, smaller than he should be able to make himself, and puts his arms in front of his body in a jerky, half-aborted movement. Allison is on her feet immediately, moving, not even sure what she should do.

 

" _Isaac,_ " Scott keeps his hands down and his voice low, and he steps over the glass and water, bare feet light on the linoleum. "hey, it's- just, uh- it's us, okay?" He's struggling with the content, but his voice is firm, _rumbling,_ and when he wraps a hand around the back of Isaac's neck, Isaac goes limp.

 

"The graveyard, and the glass-" Isaac gulps for air, broken like an almost-sob, and Allison is at his side, pressing against him with her hand over his. Isaac drops his forehead to Scott's shoulder, and when Scott says his name again, Isaac's lines go all soft.

 

They're sitting on Scott's sofa, watching some marathon of Law and Order: Criminal Intent from the early 90's. No one's really paying attention, anyways. Isaac is the first to speak, slotted against Allison like a request for support.

 

"Thanks for that. In the woods. And the kitchen. And that time when I woke up, and you- y'know."

 

Scott goes a little red, and his shoulders skitter like he's not sure whether or not he's embarrassed. "Uh, I- it's you. I can't just do that with any… uhm."

 

"So you know what I'm talking about, then." Isaac challenges, Allison's finger curled neatly around his belt hoop spurring him on. "You can do things. You hardly even have to- it's just your eyes and your voice and your, er, touch. Your touch."

 

"Your voice was different." Allison offers. "It was… lower. And not like you do when you're trying to be a serious adult or impress someone. It was actually, just, like… it was. It just happened on it's own."

 

"It's a response thing!" Scott argues. "I _do_ make it happen, but only when- like, I control it, but I don't? It happens when I need it to, but I don't think I can _just…_ " Scott trails off, gesturing abstractly.

 

"It affects you, too, right?" Isaac asks, and there's a little plea, there. "You don't give into things, when- the first time, I kissed you, and-"

 

"-I wanted to!" Scott blurts out. "It just wasn't… a good time. For you. I thought. So, uh. Besides, Allison does _things_ just as much as I do, so."

 

"Excuse you?" Allison crosses her arms, narrowing her eyes a little. Scott's trying to change to subject, it's not like _she-_

 

"Well, obviously. It's _Allison_." Isaac says, flippantly, and, _hold it._ "She does all those things with _her_ hands and eyes, but it's different, it's not a werewolf thing, an _Alpha_ thing."

 

"What are you talking about?" Allison's genuinely curious, and Isaac and Scott look at her like you're-kidding-right-oh-wait-you're-serious, and that's actually pretty new.

 

"You know." Isaac says. "When you hold my hand after Scott brings out the Alpha Mojo-"

 

"-I am not bringing out _Alpha Mojo,_ that doesn't even make _sense-_ "

 

"Literal and emotional handholding. It's all soft and nice."

 

"Oh." Allison blinks. "I- I never thought about it. So it's, like, a good thing?"

 

Scott's still a little flustered, but he nods. "Yeah."

 

"It's… important." Isaac concludes, and Allison screws up her face trying not to smile, because her compassion is _powerful._

 

"It's good that we're talking about this." Scott huffs, just a little, because he's not very comfortable with his supposed Alpha-hood, and Allison knows that Scott knows he'd make anyone else talk their feelings through, so.

 

"So, you don't really get to choose when it happens?" Isaac asks, all innocent, and Allison knows _that_ look.

 

"No, it's just like, when there's a situation, and I need-"

 

"Because I'd be so into you going all Alpha in the bedroom." Isaac finishes, and there's the kicker Allison was waiting for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoop there it is


	3. Chapter 3

Scott's eyes go all big, eyelashes fluttering and forehead scrunching.

 

" _Uh-_ but, like, not right _now,_ " Scott's voice lights a little, tight and high, as Isaac does that thing he does; dragging his eyes up Scott's body and making him squirm. "because this isn't… a good time for you?" Scott's scooting a little closer to the opposite end of the couch, like he doesn't trust himself with Isaac's gaze.

 

"Yeah."

 

"Clarify." Allison soothes, and the importance of her kindness is new, and she is learning.

 

"Now isn't a good time.I'm not… in my best headspace." Isaac concludes, and Scott relaxes, shifting so that he sits more openly. Allison throws her legs across both of their laps, Scott absentmindedly rubbing her calves, his head tucked on Isaac's shoulder.

 

No one's really paying much attention to the TV, but it's nice just to be near each other. Allison feels safe, here; her head in a good place. She doesn't feel weak, with how they're just doing normal things. And failing, Allison knows, her eyes flicking to the exits every few minutes; a routine drill. Allison can't help but focus on how being tender is helpful, useful, _important._ It matters, just like her strength and her resolve, and Allison is only just learning that there doesn't need to be a dichotomy between those, that they exist on a spectrum that's more like a circle than anything else.

 

Scott's open arms and endless amounts of care are a very large part of what makes him good at what he does. Scott's more than a leader; he's a rallying point. He is considerate and conscientious, and coming into his role as an unquestionable authority figure is alien to him. They're both figuring things out, figuring out parts of themselves that they've never really thought about.

 

Isaac is insightful. He knows Allison in her darkest places, and he'll look her in the eyes. He knows she can take care of herself. He'll follow her into those dark, dark places, be they in the woods or alleyways, or inside of her. He knows she is afraid of being weak. He knows she is not pitying. He knows that she is _kind_ , not _nice_. He knows there are parts of her Scott can't understand, just like there are parts of him she can't understand. How the moon rules him, waxing and waning; how he's bound to Derek. On some levels, Allison knows that Isaac's connection to Scott runs in visceral ways that hers never can.

 

Allison's weakness is not being human. This she knows. This Isaac knows. Scott is learning, and Allison can't resent his worry, even when she tries.

 

They do get to the bedroom, days later, and not the way Allison imagined. Allison never imagined a lot of things.

 

They come through the window, crawling. There's dried blood in her hair, her boots are caked in mud, and Isaac is holding her hands so tight they feel numb. Scott's skin is smooth, but his clothes are a mess of shreds and filth.

 

"I _need_ -" Isaac gasps against her mouth, hunched over to slot against her, lines of his body hard. His hands are as cold as ice, but his body is hot, and his eyes are wild, skittering across her form, trying to find somewhere to stay.

 

Scott steps behind him, and when he moulds himself against Isaac's back, mouth pressed where Isaac's neck meets his shoulder, Isaac makes a sound somewhere between a snarl and a sob.

 

"You need?" Allison asks, because it's usually Scott that asks, but it's usually Scott who's the more tender of the two, and she knows where this is going.

 

Scott wraps his hands around Isaac's wrists, and Isaac's grip loosens.

 

"I need it like this, how you're, _please._ " Isaac chokes out, chasing her mouth as Allison steps back, rocking on her heels. Allison smooths her hands up Isaac's torso, soaking up his warmth, settling her palms over the hammering between his ribs. He leans into her touch, holding himself just enough, afraid of _having,_ and Allison doesn't know why she feels a deep-rooted ache instead of anger at the cruel workings of the world.

 

"I'm here, alright? This is- this is new. If we need to stop, just. Tell me, okay?"

 

Isaac nods, short and sharp, and Allison kisses him, just once- gentle and small, and the cracks on her dry lips catch on his.

 

They strip with efficiency, in the dark, layers of outerwear stiff with blood and streaked with dirt. Allison winces at the smell of rot. Scott is backing Isaac against the bed, now, eyes and mouth and hands bare, voice to low for her to hear.

 

Allison closes the bedroom window, first, goosebumps prickling with the night air, and she hears Isaac let out a breath.

 

She lies on her back, the blood in her hair sticky on her skin. She's exhausted by everything, by running and getting nowhere, the constant ache of her limbs and the knot in her throat. Isaac is on his back, too; parallel to her like two bodies in a morgue.

 

Scott kneels over Isaac, profile sharp under the moon, and his eyes aren't cold, but they aren't soft. There are all these gaps between their bodies, and Isaac doesn't curl into them, just tips his head back against the mattress, eyes lowered. Scott dips his head down, kissing Isaac's throat, and when Isaac inhales, fingers contorting and arms reaching, Allison grabs his hand.

 

Allison closes her eyes, feeling the mattress shift as Scott grabs what he needs from the bedside drawer. Allison knows that he and Isaac don't use condoms, sometimes, and when she listens, she doesn't hear the rustle of plastic.

 

Allison has had her hearing trained. She isn't anywhere near what Scott and Isaac can do, of course, but lying in bed next to them, eyes closed, breathing quiet, Allison can hear everything, can feel Isaac's pulse under her finger. It's even now, with Scott curbing his wolf and touching his skin. Allison opens her eyes, just a little, and she doesn't focus on the gaps.

 

Isaac's breath hitches, deep in his chest, and when Isaac arches his back, Scott wraps a hand around his other wrist, over Isaac's head, just for a second, before letting go. Isaac lies still, then, and he looks at Scott in a way Allison knows she can't, because the need to yield to him isn't built into her like it is into Isaac. When Scott lifts Isaac's hips, fingers twisting inside of him, he doesn't move with any urgency. He's singularly focused, and the movements come easy from practice, and there's an aura of control that Allison could reach out and touch. She does, turning onto her side and running a hand down Scott's thigh. He looks at her, then, and his hand doesn't quite stutter, but he looks afraid of himself, just a little.

 

Allison curls a hand over his knee, and the lines of his shoulders don't quite not shift, then.

 

When Scott pushes into Isaac, it's slow and controlled, Scott's biceps bunched up; Isaac's ankles, always too skinny, hooked around Scott's waist. Isaac is panting and delicious, his fingers scrambling against Allison's palm, not quite holding, not quite grabbing. He twists his head to the side, looking at Allison with a kind of awe she can't understand being directed at her, and it's _obscene._ Obscene, how Isaac's curls are plastered to his forehead, his wide eyes shot through with wonder as he drinks her all in. How he bends under Scott's hands, vocalized pleasure melting Allison down to her bones and the pulse between her legs.

 

Scott gets his teeth just under Isaac's jaw, grinding into Isaac's hips, and when Isaac moans, it's lewd, and just on the right side of delirious. Scott's rhythm is painfully even, and Isaac is coming all sorts of undone, eyes fever-bright, blunt nails almost catching the back of Allison's hand.

 

Scott's been keeping quiet, brows furrowed, noises caught in his mouth and choked out, half-strangled, and he kisses in when can't hold it in- filthy and sloppy and wet. He's got a fist curled in Isaac's hair, and when he tugs, it ripples down Isaac's body, from the slack _o_ of his lips to his jerking hips to his curling toes. Isaac is vulnerable, in an unabashed kind of way, fingers crooked and twitching against Allison's, neck and belly bared to Scott.

 

" _Scott-_ " Isaac gulps, when Scott pushes the pad of his tongue over Isaac's collarbone, bending down, spine curving. Isaac's pupils are blown wide, and when Scott hovers just over his mouth, Isaac looks besotted. Allison slides a hand down Scott's back, tapping a finger on Isaac's left ankle, and Scott's eyes twitch, just a little, and his rhythm shifts with another almost-stutter.

 

Allison knows that her hands are not soft. She's got an archer's calluses, thick skin on the swells of her palms and fingertips. Sometimes she is self-conscious about them. Now, though, she's shifting her body closer to Scott and Isaac, keeping her contact with Isaac's hand, her eyes on the clench of Scott's muscles.

 

She cups Isaac's jaw, a rough thumb pressed against his red, kiss-bruised lips, and Isaac's mouth is pliant, lashes lowered. Scott being firm doesn't scare him at all, a hand on his wrist keeping him still or nudging him where Scott wants him to move, and something untwists in Allison's chest.

 

When Isaac comes, it's with Scott's hand on his cock, a muddle of names around the finger on his lips, teeth catching, his eyes screwed shut, his hand hooked tight around Allison's as he reaches. He's flushed; cheeks, ears, shoulders, knees; twisting torso and bucking hips. Scott bends, then, tongue laving over Allison's finger in Isaac's mouth, a sloppy kiss with Allison's touch more a part of the whole than an obstruction. Isaac eats it up, crazy with the touch, and Scott doesn't last. He comes with a shudder all the way down his vertebrae, squirming against Isaac's body, thighs shaking and hands clenching. He's quieter than usual, trying for control, but the small sounds are still desperate.

 

Scott doesn't collapse. He braces himself with a hand on Isaac's waist, rolling off Isaac and tucking himself behind him, nose buried in the crook of Isaac's shoulder. He looks at Allison with dark eyes, mirroring Isaac's own bright stare, and Allison knows they can both feel her arousal, but she simply curls up under Isaac's chin, arm thrown over both Scott and Isaac's waists. Isaac kisses the top of her head, ignoring the gunk in her hair, and Isaac imitates her action, catching her hip in his his grip, sandwiching Isaac between them.

 

Isaac's heartbeat is slow, now, his breathing shallow, and his hands are roaming, but Allison wants to wait, just a little.

 

She's never thought of herself as a tender lover, especially not in contrast to Scott, but Isaac looks at her all soft and trusting, and Allison is lost.

 

"Don't you want-" he asks, and Allison cuts him off with her mouth on his.

 

"Yeah, I do. But let's wait a little, okay?"

 

Scott kisses the back of Isaac's neck, edging on his usual tenderness. "Was that, uh- was that good for you?"

 

"Uhm, _yes._ " Isaac blushes, face in Allison's hair. "It was like- I wasn't in a good place. And now I am. Because you just- kind of took over."

 

"Okay, good. Because I had no clue what I was doing. I was kind of just, y'know- but you're okay… with me grabbing your wrist like that?"

 

"Your hands, yeah. I don't know about- just your hands. I trust you, and you control that, so- uh. Yeah." Isaac looks at Allison. "How do you want to… ?"

 

Allison bites her lip. "I want to take care." She says. There's an unspoken 'of you', there, but Allison's not quite sure how to say it, yet. "I kind of want to ride you, if that's alright."

 

Isaac's jaw drops. " _Jesus,_ Allison- of course that's _alright_ \- fuck, just give me, like, ten minutes. Jesus."

 

Scott grins, teeth flashing in the dark, and Allison smiles against Isaac's collarbone.


	4. Chapter 4

Allison drifts off, pressed against the warmth of Isaac's chest, Scott absentmindedly stroking her hip.

 

She wakes just the same way, the sky still the same dark colour. She stretches, toes flexing against the footboard of Scott's bed, and Scott catches the small of her back in his palm.

 

"Hey." He says, soft and playful, and Allison remembers when her life was less complicated.

 

She doesn't dwell on it, though. She can't.

 

"How long've I been out?" She asks, scrubbing a hand over her face.

 

Isaac shrugs. "Dunno. We both kinda dozed, too. I woke up when you did."

 

"Are you still up for…?" Allison spreads her fingers across Isaac's collarbone. Isaac grins, a flash of teeth in the dark.

 

"Werewolf stamina. _Mad_ perks." Scott singsongs, sitting up and scooting back against the headboard. Allison can't help but laugh. Scott's infectious that way, always has been.

 

Allison leans over Isaac, fumbling for a condom in Scott's bedside drawer. Isaac tucks himself between Scott's legs, back to Scott's chest, watching her with his lips parted and his lashes lowered. Scott wraps his arms around Isaac's waist, chin resting on Isaac's shoulder. Allison sits low on Isaac's thighs, pressing a palm against the side of his chest. When she leans in for a kiss, she keeps her hand there, trying to establish as many points of touch as she can.

 

Isaac is pliant and receptive, melted against Scott's chest, long fingers pushing against her hips. His kisses don't push, though. They're intimate, slow things, and he licks into Allison's mouth like they have all the time in the world, and Allison wants to pretend that's true. Scott nudges against Isaac's neck, all open-mouthed kisses and wet noises.

 

Allison lives in routine. It keeps her grounded, when the world is spinning around her. With Scott and Isaac, though, things never work in cycles. They have a dynamic, but it's constantly evolving to keep up with each other. The idea that Allison's kindness is both a luxury and a necessity is still something Allison's wrapping her head around. So she has routines. Carefully peeling off the condom wrapper, smiling against Isaac's mouth when he squirms and gasps, her steady hands on his cock. Not boring, nothing she could ever get used to, but not out of the normal, either. It's not like she hasn't ridden Isaac before, or Scott. They love her thighs.

 

When Allison settles on Isaac's cock, she feels his entire body move under her, and that's _good_ pressure. She rocks against him, just a little, and his breath is shaky against her mouth, his hips jerking erratically. He's always this receptive with her, and it makes Allison completely crazy. Scott's strong hands are on her thighs, and she feels them tense when Isaac moans, raw and deep in his chest.

 

Allison loses herself in the heat and the noise, Isaac's slack mouth bumping against hers, Scott's warm, broad palms on her legs. Everything is more gentle than it usually is when she's on top. There's no edge to Isaac's kisses, and no teeth; just noses and foreheads bumping and jumpy breathing. Isaac's hands are light on her body, soothing up her ribcage and cupping her breasts.

 

Allison figures out a rhythm between the roll of their hips, brushing her lips over the corner of his open mouth when he shifts up to meet her. Isaac bites his lip, letting out a strangled noise.

 

"Uhm." He chokes out, jerking his head back as Scott pushes his lower lip across the shell of his ear. " _Uhm._ "

 

"Hey," Allison holds his face in her palms, making him look at her. "what do you need?"

 

Isaac's face is hot, and his flush is creeping up his neck. "I'm kind of, Uh. It's a little bit. Like, Idon'tthinkI'll _last-_ " 

 

"That's hot." Scott concludes, and Isaac head butts him.

 

"So, what do you need?" Allison asks, holding as still as she can.

 

Isaac groans. "I don't know. It's like, you're not moving fast, or anything. And Scott isn't… er, _talking._ But it's just…" He trails off, scrunching up his nose. "never mind."

 

"Hey," Scott starts, voice low and a little bit commanding, Allison feeling a pulse between her legs. Isaac's hips twitch up against her. "can you focus on this?"

 

Scott pushes a hand through Isaac's hair, taking hold.

 

"That- that might make it worse. Well, better? Worse. You know what I _mean._ " Isaac stammers.

 

"Focus." Scott says, and there's a bit of a growl there.

 

"I… can do that."

 

Allison keeps her hands on Isaac's face, grinding slowly against him. He's undone, eyes bright and more than a little wild, flush spread across his nose and cheeks. Her kisses are gentle, tongue sliding against his at a lazy pace, muffling the sharp hitches of his voice. He pulls her against him, strong arms and too-skinny wrists wrapping around her.

 

"Is this... good?" Allison asks. She knows she sounds breathless, and Scott's free hand smooths her bed head. Her hair is still matted with filth, but she can't focus enough to be self conscious. All she can think about is Scott's hands, and the slick heat of Isaac inside of her.

 

Isaac's movements are erratic, but he's still slow, curving his body to slot against Scott's, nudging his head under Allison's chin, breathing her in. Allison knows she smells like blood and dirt, but she supposes she must smell like herself, underneath he grime. And like Isaac and Scott. Which must be nice.

 

 

Allison comes before Isaac does, his tongue in the dip of her collarbone, his eyelashes tickling the column of her throat. Her orgasm curls through her like a wave, Scott's eyes on her mouth and his hand on the back of her neck. She can't make any sense of the amalgam of names that spill out of her mouth in a sigh and a moan, but Scott seems to be able to, his hand now completely slack in Isaac's hair.

 

Isaac bucks his hips up, burying his face in Allison's chest as he comes. The sounds he makes aren't desperate, but he stifles them against her skin, anyways. Allison kisses the crown of his head, holding him against her. Scott runs a hand down Isaac's back, pressing his cheek against Isaac's shoulder blade.

 

They stay like that for a little while, Isaac's breath hot on Allison's skin, gradually evening out.

 

Isaac tilts his head up, resting his chin on Allison's sternum. "That was good. It was different."

 

Allison's a little dazed, lifting herself off Isaac and sitting on his thighs. She manages a nod. Scott stretches, letting out a satisfied yawn as he drops his forehead on Isaac's shoulder.

 

"Are you in a good place?" He asks, voice sleepy, tapping Isaac's cheekbone.

 

"Yeah. I needed that." Isaac leans into the touch, just a little, and Allison doesn't know why it makes warmth bloom in her chest.

 

They don't always operate with Scott being firm and Allison being tender, but it happens unconsciously, and often. Isaac will be fucking Scott against a wall, whispering filth in his ear, Scott's nails dragging down Isaac's back, his legs wrapped around Isaac's waist, and Scott will choke out Isaac's name, and everything will flip internally. The pace doesn't change, but there's a break in Isaac's voice, and Scott will be calling the shots without talking at all, a hand curled in the short hair at the base of Isaac's neck.

 

Sometimes, when Allison is too angry at the world to think, Isaac asks if she wants to pin his wrists with her hands, tells her neither of them are made of glass. When they kiss, it's with teeth, and afterwards, it's Scott that kisses Isaac's bruised mouth softly.

 

They're playful, too. Scott kissing the inside of Allison's ankle when they watch movies; Allison tucking her cold, human hands under Isaac's shirt; Isaac tucking himself under Scott's chin even though he's the tallest by far.

 

There are edges they can't escape, Allison knows, but she's willing to ignore them.

 

Isaac's lying on Scott's bed, barefoot and on his back. He's wearing Scott's shirt, too tight across the chest, too loose in the sleeves, and much too short. Scott's on the floor, gaze flicking between his laptop and his Economics textbook. Allison sits cross-legged in Scott's deck chair, painting her nails. They always get wrecked, but she does it anyways, layering on coats of translucent mint green. She's just in her underwear and Isaac's lacrosse jersey, t-shirt sleeves down to her elbows.

 

"I just don't care about the factors that influence success in global markets. Like, at _all._ I just want Pringles in and around my mouth."

 

Allison finishes off the final coat on her pinky finger, unfolding herself off the chair and straddling Scott's back, keeping her hands up. "You're such a goon. What question are you on?"

 

"Five. I'm answering in full sentences, and all that junk. Also, I'm a champ at formatting."

 

"Oh my god, how are you _real_?" Isaac laughs, but there's something there that makes Allison stand immediately, stalking over to the bed and depositing herself in Isaac's lap. 

 

Scott follows wordlessly, closing his laptop and stretching as he stands. "This is coming from someone that that literally looks like a Renaissance painting? Dude."

 

Isaac flushes, and Allison pecks him on the mouth, keeping her hands flat on her thighs. Scott flops back on the bed, hooking a finger around Isaac's belt loop.

 

"If my nails get wrecked, you're gonna be repainting them for me, got it?" Allison teases, nudging Scott with her foot.

 

Scott grins, kissing Isaac on the cheek. "Econ homework's not due 'till Wednesday. Just saying."

 

Isaac groans, flinging an arm over his face to hide his blush. "You two, oh my _god_ -"

 

Scott leans over him, bracketing Isaac's head with his arms, meeting Isaac's eyes upside down. "Hey." His voice is gentle, and Isaac rolls his eyes.

 

"Hey yourself." He smirks, pulling Scott down for a kiss, Scott's nose bumping his chin. Scott takes his cue, then, dragging his tongue slowly over Isaac's open mouth, biting his lip when Isaac arches his back. 

 

"So, real, right?" Allison asks, a hand on Isaac's chest.

 

Isaac makes a broken noise in Scott's mouth. "I want, when you-"

 

Allison presses a palm over Isaac's heart, and his pulse jumps. Scott quirks his head to the side, ghosts his hands over Isaac's wrists.

 

"Like this?" He asks, still gentle, and when Isaac nods, teeth catching on Scott's lips, Scott wraps his fingers snugly around Isaac's wrists.

 

Allison crinkles her nose. "Hey, _nails_?" she teases, and Isaac tilts his chin up to whisper something in Scott's ear. Scott's smile is predatory, and it makes Allison's higher senses fizzle out.

 

She's lying on her back, horizontal on the bed, fingers spread over her thighs, resisting the urge to curl them in the sheets. _Nails,_ she reminds herself.

 

Isaac's breath is warm against her inner thigh, hands smoothing over her ribcage, hips bent over the edge of the bed. Scott's draped over Isaac's back, hands splayed firmly over Isaac's hips. Allison gasps as Isaac laves his tongue over her labia, burying his nose in the dark hair of her sex and inhaling. When she moans, Scott narrows his eyes, biting his lip. Isaac hums against her, rocking back into Scott. Allison arches her back, spreading her fingers, resisting the urge to card her hands through Isaac's hair.

 

Scott seems in synch with her, pushing a hand through Isaac's curls, just shy of tugging. Isaac inhales sharply against her, all eagerness and delicious friction, and Allison remembers when Scott first taught him how to eat her out. Isaac's hips jerk forward, and Scott keeps him from rutting against the mattress with a hand tightening on his hip. Isaac whines, dragging Allison down towards the edge of the bed, curling his tongue over her clit.

 

Allison opens her mouth to giggle, but all that comes out is a " _please-_ ", lilting near the end, and Isaac obliges, worrying her clit between his lips. When she comes, she's _loud,_ fingers spasming on her thighs, ankle hooked around Scott's calf. Isaac kisses her cunt, lapping up her come before resting his chin on her stomach.

 

Allison gently takes his face in her hands, stopping him from burying his face in her skin when he moans, lewd sounds hanging in the empty air. His face his red all over, hair tousled, pale eyes stormy. Allison props herself up on her elbows, meeting Scott's eyes over Isaac's head. Scott grinds into Isaac, leaning down to nip at the back of his neck. Isaac yelps, canting his hips back, hands scrambling for purchase on Allison's body. Allison laces his fingers with her own, sure her nails must be dry by now.

 

Isaac exhales against her navel, and Allison laughs softly at the tickling sensation, letting her head fall back into the mattress. Isaac's mouth and chin are wet, saliva and come sticky on her body. She's lightheaded, post-coital haze wrapped tight around her brain, and Allison pretends that she's just living in the moment.

 

Isaac comes when Scott reaches down to stroke his cock, teeth snapping the air, fingers squeezing the gaps between Allison's knuckles. He's all hard lines, head jerking back, eyes fluttering and squeezing shut, and he melts against Allison's body and Scott's bed.

 

Scott follows, groan like a growl crawling deep from the dip under his sternum, hips rocking forward erratically. When he collapses on the bed, Isaac crawls into his lap, chasing his mouth with Allison's taste. Scott curls one hand in Isaac's hip, wrapping a lock of Allison's hair around the index finger of the other. Allison rolls onto her side, smoothing a hand down Scott's chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

 

"So, I could still definitely go for Pringles. There's some in the kitchen, and they're calling my name. I'm just. Gonna go. Get Pringles." Scott scoots out from under Isaac, kissing him on the cheek and giving Allison's knee a squeeze.

 

"Biggest mood killer of the century. It's you. The True Mood Killer. It's your destiny." Allison laughs, tucking herself against Isaac's form.

 

"Whatever. See if I share any of my Pringles with you." Scott tugs on Isaac's jeans, too snug at the waist and far too long in the legs, and Isaac smacks his ass when Scott makes to stand. Scott yelps, all messy hair and false indignation, and Isaac's smile makes Allison's chest hurt, in a good way.

 

Allison checks her nails. They're just fine, and when Isaac raises an eyebrow, she kisses him compliant.

 

"Don't ever doubt that what we have is real, alright?" She whispers, hovering over his mouth, and Isaac tugs her against his chest, heartbeat steady and slow.

 

Scott returns triumphant, flopping down on Allison's other side, brandishing a Pringles tube. "I'm going to sleep in crumbs. I just can't care."

 

"Those had better be sour cream and onion flavour." Isaac stretches an arm out, waggling his fingers until Scott dumps a stack of chips in his hand.

 

"Dude, you know it."

 

Allison's worried her nails are gonna do that thing where they seem dry, but get smushed at any pressure. She tells Scott as much, and he feeds her chips, reassuring Isaac that he can dump the crumbs at the bottom of the tube into Isaac's mouth, if he wants. Isaac snorts, but goes along with it, in the end.

 

Allison sighs, stretching her arms over Scott and Isaac's shoulders. The world around her is always spinning and dangerous, and she's hardly alright, but right now, she thinks she maybe could be happy, and forget the steel trap of the night around her.

**Author's Note:**

> [kanyeshrugs into the abyss]


End file.
